


what you do

by orphan_account



Category: The Lorax (2012)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Highschool AU, M/M, Other, Vivisection, thneedville high
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 20:46:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/917839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>lmao a fic that's as old as time for a fandom i never want to see again ;; i'm only keeping this up so i dont lose it</p>
            </blockquote>





	what you do

You awake to a blank room. No sky. No walls. No floor. It’s simply nothing. Blank, white, empty, nonexistent. You’re laying on your back, arms out beside of you. It distracts you long enough from the pressure on your stomach, and nearly on cue, someone leans into your field of vision.  
You knew this kid, it was someone you had maybe-possibly pined over for a few years since you met him freshman year. He wore his classic pink sweater vest and glittery glasses that were too big for his face. His expression is unhappy, disgruntled over something. Your arms are heavy, you cant pick them up and push him off, so you simply stare dumb-foundedly up at him and try to pick words. When you finally do, your throat refuses to produce any sound. It frustrates you even further.

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips when he notices your struggle, and he scoots up a bit on your chest. “So, Bitter.” He muses softly, your eyes flicking between his devious smirk and his hand slipping into his pocket to retrieve something. “How are we doing?” You swallow, unsure how to respond to his condescending tone. Swag looks down at what he was getting, and you catch a glimpse of a switchblade. More importantly, One’s switchblade. Without thinking, you open your mouth to send an angered question his way, but all that comes out is a quiet squeak. It makes you bite your lip and continue watching him  
He laughs softly, leaning over till he was only a few inches away from his face. You could see behind those gleaming azure shades now, eyes narrow to accompany his grin. While you weren’t paying attention, he pinned your arms down with his knees, and when you were, he pushed the switchblade suddenly between your lips and teeth.  
Your eyes widened, and you desperately searched his own hidden ones, feeling it push harder and harder on the corner of your mouth till the skin gave way. You make a small choked sound, the blade easily slicing through thin skin. You couldn’t resist, moving would result in it digging into your tongue or gums, and in a worst scenario, cutting the other cheek, so you let him do what he wanted, and it burned. He grinned wider at your sounds, a small giggle escaping his lips when you started to sputter on blood in the back of your throat. 

Once he’s done with both cheeks, he runs his thumbs through the new scars (quite painfully) and sits back, tapping the tip of the blade on his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm,-” His train of thought cuts off when he notices that you’re crying, and a new grin spreads over his face again. He leans back down, not as close this time, and thumbs the tears off your cheek. “Aww, no body likes a big baby do they? C’mon, don’t cry.” He says teasingly, one thumb coming a little too close to your eye. “Let me fix that.” His tone changed completely, and he forced his thumb into your socket. 

With a coughed gag, you struggle to get away, the result only making Swag hold your face tighter and keep you from moving as your eye gave way, even more blood spilling down your temple. He doesn’t do anything to the other, making you assume he’s got a reason to do so. He pulls his fingers away, staring at his now bloodied hand in sadistic curiosity. His eyes flick back to your face.

"I don’t think I’m quite done yet…" He broods out softly, making blurry eye contact with you for a few moments.

In the seconds following, he unzips your jacket and tosses it open, right before using the blade to cut your shirt so he could view your chest. You could see him smirk admiringly before tracing the switchblade up and around your pectorals. He’s humming as he does, ending his journey at the cavity right above your sternum and between your collarbones. Swag pressed the sharp edge into skin with a pause, forcing it down in an instant- and up to the hilt. Blood gurgles up in your throat and you gag again, fingers curling into fists. He drags the blade down, hands shaking from the force he was exerting.  
The bone cracked and fractured as he cut through it, making you want to scream again. After what seemed like hours, he finally carved all the way to your belly button. He set the blade down to the side for a few moments and wrenched your sternum apart, the bone splintering and snapping as he did. You opened your mouth in an attempt to scream, unable to voice it. He merely laughs.

While you choke on your blood in horrible, rattled breaths, he yanks your ribs apart and causes them to split and crackle from the unnatural position. He continues to pull and pull till your skin has given way and they’re exposed, along with the muscle. He casually brings the knife back into his hands and proceeds to split through it, drawing the usual gurgle of pain out of you. He pulls it away too, having to pause and slice other small parts so your muscles actually move like he wanted. He perked up, everything finally out of the way and organs in his reach. He tosses the blade down and shoves his hands in, his laughing ringing in your ears. 

His fingers squish and squelch around various innards, eventually stopping on what you guessed was your kidney. He squeezed and pulled, yanking it out of your abdomen and tossing it to the side. You tightened up as best you could with sliced muscles, and bile comes up in your throat. You can’t quite throw it up, but the nasty taste still stings in your mouth. Swag’s fingers move up to your spleen now, closing around the tough organ and pausing a moment. In this time, you manage to work up the effort to grab his wrist with your now released hand. Without missing a beat, he shoots you a dark look and grabs the limb with slick digits, pinning it back where it was and grabbing the blade from beside you.  
"Don’t you _dare_ fucking try this shit with me.” he hissed, bringing the blade down unexpectedly on your palm. Blood throttles the cry you attempt to make, the dark crimson slipping through the cuts on your cheeks. He wiggles the handle a bit to make sure it’s stuck and goes back to what he was doing, now taking spleen in one hand, kidney in the other. He rips them out quite viciously, discarding them and burrowing his fingers back in.  
"Spleen is such a funny word." He giggles.

Your clothes are waterlogged in blood by now, your usual green and purple jacket a horrible mix of brown and mahogany. You’re simply a a mess of your own viscera and gore at this point, fingers trembling softly. Swag still had his hands buried deep in your abdomen, pulling and clawing at various innards and occasionally pulling a handful of flesh out and tossing it away. Suddenly, he pauses, glancing up at you. His eyebrows betray his worry. “Bitter?”

—-

"Bitter, yo hey Bitt-butts get up dude!"  
Your eyes shot open, body in a cold sweat. Swag sits above you, hands stilling from shaking you from your slumber. You push him off, sitting up and taking a moment to compose yourself. You were still in one piece, that was a plus, and no blood, even better. After surveying your surroundings in the dimly lit room, you look back to Swag, who is positively confused. With a quick shake of the head, you dismiss whatever he was about to say.  
"No, I don’t want to talk about it. Go back to sleep."  
You sigh softly, moving to get comfortable under the covers again, although you didn’t plan on sleeping anymore.


End file.
